Even though my mom was an organized soul who took pride in decluttering, there was still a significant amount of work ahead. When my parents purchased their home 15 years prior, it was a stunning builder’s model, beautifully designed and furnished. Unfortunately, my dad passed away shortly after the purchase, leaving my mom to navigate life alone, away from her five children. She adapted remarkably well, building a supportive circle of friends, joining a book club, traveling, playing golf, and visiting her children’s families a few times a year. During this period, I was busy raising my own family, and visiting her became a challenge, especially in a house where every room led out to her pool deck. As a result, my visits became infrequent.
My siblings and I agreed that selling her house furnished would be the best option. I organized the process into three main categories: items for donation, which filled the garage; items for disposal, which overtook the driveway; and items to keep for ourselves, which were packed into five large boxes. I dedicated three long days, each lasting 16 hours, to sorting through her belongings.
This endeavor was beautiful yet heartbreaking, a solitary journey through memories. I found myself reminiscing as I sifted through the art my parents had collected together. I cherished the framed photographs my mom had arranged throughout the house, showcasing moments with my dad, my siblings, and their families.
Among the items, I stumbled upon a scrapbook resembling a baby brag book, but for adults. It contained newspaper clippings of our achievements, job promotions, art show invitations, and various accolades. I could picture her proudly sharing it with friends. Yet, after a few glasses of wine each night, I wished my sister could have joined me. It would have made the process lighter, allowing us to share laughter and tears.
What truly saddened me was discovering the remnants of what it must have been like for a woman struggling with her mental clarity in that house. Drawers crammed with books about memory loss, workbooks filled with brain games, jars of vitamins for cognitive health, and notes to herself. She had kept this struggle hidden from everyone. In hindsight, we should have recognized the signs.
A couple of years before, my brother and I had gifted her digital photo frames filled with family images. These were nowhere to be found—likely discarded due to her inability to operate them. As her world shrank, it seemed she had been simplifying her surroundings, aiming for a more manageable space. In her kitchen, I spotted a large whiteboard I had created for her, still bearing the note “Tissues” from two visits ago.
Amidst the growing piles of trash and donations, I carefully selected items for the five boxes, choosing sentimental pieces I believed my siblings would appreciate. I pondered what to do with the family photos we sent her every year. Should I return them to their senders?
Years earlier, when my husband’s grandmother passed away, my mother-in-law faced a similar task. She sent me a box containing a Tiffany tulip vase that my husband and I had gifted his grandma long ago. Although it wasn’t my style, I cherished it. Each time I see it, I remember Grandma Groves and her kindness.
Inspired by my mother-in-law’s approach, I decided to do the same with the gifts I had given my mom. She was creative, so I often sent her items I crafted or purchased from shops. Some were displayed; others vanished without a trace. If she didn’t like something, she never kept it.
As I continued my search, I found a beautiful glass rainbow I had given her shortly after my dad’s passing. I had hoped it would evoke memories of him and bring her joy. Thankfully, it hadn’t been discarded like many of my other gifts. Thrilled, I carefully placed the rainbow in my carry-on, unwilling to let shippers handle it. Now, whenever I see it tucked away on a shelf, it reminds me of my mom and brings a smile to my face.
This article first appeared on September 26, 2015, and serves as a poignant reminder of love, loss, and the small treasures that connect us to those we hold dear.
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Summary
This reflective piece details the emotional process of sorting through a mother’s belongings after a significant loss, highlighting the bittersweet memories associated with each item. The author shares personal anecdotes and the importance of cherished gifts, ultimately finding solace in a glass rainbow that symbolizes hope and connection.
Keyphrase: Closing a Chapter in Life
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